


Wrath

by funnygirlthatbelle13



Series: Not-So Deadly Sins [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cops, Gay Bashing, Gen, Hospitalization, IronDad and SpiderSon, Panic Attacks, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 10:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17201498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funnygirlthatbelle13/pseuds/funnygirlthatbelle13
Summary: Tony and Peter’s trip to Europe has been incredible and they’ve bonded so much along the way. But when a New Year’s Eve celebration in Vienna ends with Peter beaten to a pulp for kissing another boy, it’s up to Tony to channel his protective rage into helping the police find the person responsible.





	Wrath

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am so sorry this has taken so long. Blame it on my Irondad Big Bang for taking over my life. But at least I have this!

Traveling across Europe with Peter Parker was unlike any trip Tony had ever been on before. England, which he usually associated with stuffy business meetings, with Peter became a giant tour of filming locations for various movies. Some were legitimately exciting, like the Harry Potter tour they went on, but even Tony was confused by the kid’s excitement from recognizing a location from Night at the Museum 3. Ireland was truly an adventure. Apparently, Peter had some distant relatives who still lived there that the kid’s grandfather’s godson had stayed in contact with and had given them their phone number. Not expecting even an answer, the kid had called only for them to be invited over for a goddamn delicious dinner. France, aside from Peter’s attempts to climb Notre Dame to sing “Out There,” was everything Tony expected. Which is to say, constantly traveling between restaurants and bakeries trying new dishes, with some movie references tossed in for good measure. Portugal had the unfortunate luck of being where a lot of the actual business of this business trip had been, meaning very little sightseeing. However, Peter had been better than Tony could have ever imagined in front of some of the most influential business people in the world, winning the heart of just about everyone he spoke to. Spain had turned out to be a bit of a dud for them, as Peter didn’t like tapas, mountains, Picasso, or anything that came close to reminding him of Ernest Hemingway. Italy had been better, with the kid’s love of food driving the trip. And yes, they did get private pasta-making lessons while they were there. Going back to Germany, though sprinkled with awkwardness, was better than he had expected. There were a lot of meetings in this country as well, but the two of them managed to sneak off to explore a bit. Tony had marveled at how far both of them had come since the fight in Berlin.

Now they were in Vienna, a city Peter had found fascinating in his research before the trip. It was New Year’s Eve. After a day of exploring the city, Peter had decided to stay out and celebrate the new year in the gorgeous city. He had debated going with the kid, but the idea of going out and drinking with Peter was just too awkward, even if it was legal. Instead, he stayed in the hotel, sitting at the bar near the piano, and chatting with the various other guests. 

As the night went on, people came and went from the hotel, but Peter was not one of them. Tony tried not to worry. He hadn’t given Peter a curfew while they were on this trip. And the holiday crowds were probably not helping. He adjusted his chair to get a better view of the elevator with a sigh, hoping to repress or at least hide his anxiety in front of all these people. 

Of course, that was easier said than done. Especially when the bar closed and Peter was still not back. His texts were going unanswered. What could’ve happened? The noblewoman he was sitting with seemed to notice, too.  
“Did someone break curfew?” she asked with a sympathetic smile, “My boys always did when we traveled.”  
“I didn’t give him a curfew, but it’s not like him to be unreachable.”   
“Perhaps he’s occupied with someone else. How old is he?”  
“Sixteen.”  
“Ah yes, that’s exactly how old my Thomas was when he scared me half to death by not coming home after going out on St. Patrick’s Day. We were in Dublin visiting a friend of mine. I was simply terrified that something awful had happened, but he came home the next day and I knew what he’d been up to.”  
Tony tried not to laugh. This kind woman had no idea how not applicable to Peter that was. She was trying to help, trying to keep him calm.He did his best not to panic, but his best simply wasn’t good enough. The older woman smiled at him sadly and sympathetically as they sat in the lobby.  
“Perhaps what you need is a little bit of shut eye,” she suggested, “When you wake up, you may wake up and find your boy in the room completely fine except for a hangover.” 

Tony made his way up to the highest level of the hotel, staring out the glass elevator. Some foolish part of him was desperately searching out the window, as if he’d be able to see Peter if he looked hard enough. He entered his hotel room and turned on the television only to find a report of two teenagers having been assaulted. The unnamed boys had been beaten up by a drunk man after he had seen them kissing. Fear and dread filled his body. He didn’t need proof to know that Peter was one of those boys. But he had to find out where he was. He still needed to call. 

“Federal Police, Vienna Division,” the voice on the other end of the line said, “How-“  
“The two boys who were attacked-“  
“Sir, we’re not releasing their names until we get permission-“  
“Is one of them Peter Parker?”   
“Excuse me?”   
“Peter Parker. Peter Benjamin Parker. He’s an American kid. New York.”  
Silence.   
“How do you know all of that?”   
“He’s my intern. And I’m one of his emergency contacts.” 

 

A little over an hour later, he was walking down the hallway of the hospital towards Peter’s room. He saw several doctors and nurses standing outside one room and silently prayed that that wasn’t Peter’s room. However, as he approached them, he could hear the name Parker. He took a deep breath before approaching them.   
“How bad is he, doc?”   
One of the doctors smiled and shook his hand.   
“Hello, Mr. Stark. He’s… not good. He’s going to survive, but that’s about all we can tell you.”  
“What do you mean?” he said with a quiet anger.  
“He’s an enigma,” she explained, “He couldn’t be sedated, the painkillers we gave him weren’t working at all, and his injuries were healing already.”  
Shit. They had noticed everything except the radiation in his blood.  
“Isn’t that a good thing?” he asked, hoping to distract.  
“Well, it would be,” she said, “Except nothing was where it was supposed to be, so nothing healed correctly.”   
The medical team all looked around at each other anxiously, but Tony couldn’t be bothered to care. That son of a bitch was going to pay for ever going near Peter.   
“Mr. Stark,” the doctor, Katharina according to her name tag, whispered, “HIPAA exists here, too. All we care about is him getting better, but for that to happen we need to know: is Mr. Parker… enhanced?”

No. This couldn’t be happening. This simply couldn’t be happening. He needed to get the kid somewhere safe. With doctors he knew wouldn’t talk. Helen. Helen Cho. If anyone could help him without outing Peter as Spider-Man, Helen could.  
“I need to get him to South Korea. How long will it take for him to be ready?  
“You can’t!” one of the nurses exclaimed.   
“Mr. Stark,” Katharina pleaded, “I know you don’t want to reveal his identity to the world, but we can’t treat him if we don’t have all the information.”  
“It’s not my call,” he said simply. Katharina smiled sadly.  
“You’re listed as an emergency contact. That means that if he’s not able to answer, it is your call.”   
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The kid would understand, right?  
“He’s got enhanced healing, strength, and metabolism. There’s a bunch of other stuff, too, but I don’t think it’s super relevant. Except maybe his radioactive blood.”   
The team all glanced around, with some whispering theories.  
“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Katharina said, “This will help us take care of him better. We’ll leave you alone with him.”

Despite the kid’s healing, Tony still felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach when he saw Peter. Every cut, every bruise, every bandage, every IV tube made him both want to punch something and curl up in a ball at the same time. Tentatively, he approached the boy.  
“Guess we’re gonna have to cancel that tour of the filming locations of the Sound of Music we have booked for tomorrow, huh, Pete?” he muttered with a humorless chuckle. As he sat down in the chair next to the bed, he knew he was in for at least a week of back pain after this.

“Will Petey be alright?”   
Tony nearly jumped out of his skin in order to see who was speaking. In the doorway was a man sitting in a wheelchair. A quick glance gave him the appearance of a hipster, with his short, scruffy beard and designer sunglasses. But the longer Tony looked, the less he looked like a cold brew drinking college student and the more he looked like a dad from coastal New England who brewed his own beer. Tony was in a committed relationship and this guy couldn’t be older than thirty, but damn… But that wasn’t the point.   
“I’m sorry, who are you?”  
“I’m Marco.” Tony’s raised eyebrow was enough to get the man talking. “The other- I mean, I was there when- he and I were- is he going to be okay?”  
“They’re not sure yet,” he said, not wanting to share too much information with this Marco guy, “How old are you?”   
“Nineteen, sir,” Marco said awkwardly, looking down at the wheelchair he was sitting in. In that moment, Tony could see the teenager in the man.   
“How are you holding up?” he asked gently.   
“Oh, I’m not too bad. I broke my legs on the ice trying to get help. And I got a concussion. Peter got the worst of it. I tried to pull the guy off of him, but he told me he could take it as long as I got help-“ he trailed off, adjusting the IV tube in his hand.  
“I should’ve been there for him,” Marco whispered. 

Tony felt like he’d been punched in the gut by the Hulkbuster armor after that statement. These were just kids.   
“No, Marco. I should’ve been there. It’s my job to protect him.”  
“Excuse me, Mr. Gruber, we need to speak to Mr. Stark,” a kind but unfamiliar voice said. Marco’s jaw dropped.  
“Stark? As in, Tony Stark? Iron Man?” Tony smiled.   
“Mr. Gruber, please,” the person on the other side of the door said impatiently.  
“Sorry,” Marco sheepishly mumbled as he wheeled himself out of the way. 

A very nervous looking police officer entered the room. Looking him up and down, Tony could tell that he was a rookie who desperately did not want to be there.   
“Mr. Gruber, Mr. Stark, I’m Officer Winkler. How is Mr. Parker?”  
“Pretty bad,” Tony said, not giving Marco enough time to start crying again, “Tell me you’ve got some good news.”  
“Unfortunately, I do not,” Officer Winkler said with a heavy sigh, “We’re stumped. We need more information about Mr. Parker. We need you to come in and help us.”  
“I need to stay here,” he insisted, “I need to stay with Pete.”   
“No, we need you to come with us.”

Oh god. Oh god, no. No. No no no. Of all the things that could potentially go wrong on this trip, this was one of the few he hadn’t anticipated or prepared for. Hell, he had prepared for an alien attack better than this! Peter was hurt because of him, because he hadn’t thought before making a decision. Because no matter how hard he tried to keep the people he loved safe, he always messed up and got them hurt.   
“Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, please.” Marco was anxiously hovering over him, as he’d somehow ended up in the chair. He was having a panic attack. Perfect.   
“Everyone out,” he managed to say between shaking breaths, “Get out.”   
“You want my account of things, right, officer?” Marco prompted, leading Winkler outside. 

He looked over at the bed, where Peter was still out of it. What would the kid say if he saw him acting like this? He’d be ashamed and never take his advice seriously again. Oh god. He needed to calm the hell down before anyone else saw him like this. He needed to talk to someone.  
“Hey, Tones, Happy New Year!” Rhodey said casually, “How’s Europe? Is Peter enjoying the- Tony, is everything okay? What’s going on?”   
“Peter-attacked-hospital-“ he gasped out.   
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, how’d he get hurt? He’s Spider-Man!”  
“I don’t know!” he whispered harshly, “He was kissing this nineteen-year-old when this dude starting beating the shit out of him. Peter tried to get the kid to get help, but by the sound of it, the cops took their damn time.”  
“Dammit. Wait, did you say a nineteen-year-old? That’s legal… wherever you are?”  
Tony made a mental note to research the consent laws in Austria and figure out if Marco Gruber needed to be added to his list of people whose asses he needed to kick. Tony sighed.  
“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, hating how helpless he sounded at that moment. He waited for a response from Rhodey, but, for a while, all that came was a sigh. 

“I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now, Tones. You’ve gotta be feeling terrified and guilty and pissed and a million other things all at once. Your kid is hurt.”  
“He’s not my-“ he began to protest weakly.  
“He’s not your kid? That’s why you have him over every weekend and took him to Europe, right? Cuz you have a strictly professional relationship with the kid?”  
Tony was stumped. While he had never intended for Peter to be anything more than an asset, maybe a mentee, the kid had snuck his way right into his heart.   
“I’m gonna take by your silence that you know I’m right,” god, he could almost hear the smirk, “Anyways, your kid is hurt. You’ve got a lot of emotions going on right now.”  
“I just don’t know how to shut them off.”  
“You don’t.”  
He scoffed at that.  
“No, I’m serious, Tones. My granddad always told me that there are no good or bad emotions, only good and bad ways to channel them. Pride can lead to being self-assured or an egomaniac. Love can become jealousy or protectiveness. It’s not about what you feel; those are your instincts. What’s important is how you react to those emotions.”  
He looked over at Peter, his kid, still lying still. Had he fallen unconscious from the attack, the drugs, or the pain of the surgery? He did his best not to think of the boy who filmed a video diary in a battle having to go through surgery fully awake and able to feel. Instead, he tried to think about his best friend’s words. It made sense, even if he wasn’t sure exactly how to follow the advice.   
“Figure out what Peter needs from you and channel all your protective papa energy into getting that for him.”  
Tony stared at his boy, knowing exactly what he needed to do for what seemed like the first time in his mentoring of Peter.   
“I’ve got a son of a bitch to catch.” He took his thumb and wiped some drool away from the corner of his boy’s mouth. With a sigh, he stood up and walked away. When he reached the doorway, he glanced back at him.  
“Keep me posted,” Rhodey instructed.   
“I will,” he whispered, hanging up. With a clenched fist, he stepped out of the room to see Winkler and Marco.  
“Let’s do this.” 

 

Tony glanced at his watch. 9:00 A.M.   
“I know that this has taken longer than any of us would have liked,” the detective sitting across from him said, a sad smile on her face.   
“I just wish I could help more, Detective Berger.”  
“Call me Johanna, Mr. Stark,” she said, “And there is a way you can help us.” He quirked his eyebrow.   
“We know that you’re not involved and that you have a history of solving mysteries faster than anyone else.”  
“Are you calling me the world’s greatest detective?” he asked, half-heartedly joking as he took a swig of the cup of coffee in front of him. He was far too exhausted to actually have a sense of humor. Johanna shrugged.  
“Well, kind of.”  
He refrained from raising his eyebrow again, instead choosing to simply look at her. She stared right back at him, her calm green eyes showing nothing her words didn’t. 

Winkler was waiting for them when he and Berger got to the bullpen.  
“Mr. Stark will be helping us,” she explained to her partner, “We don’t have time to waste. With all the tourists in town, the chances of the perpetrator leaving the country in the next day or so are high.”   
The two looked at one another before Winkler picked up a file.  
“I’ve been combing through all of our fights and drunk and disorderly reports from tonight trying to find anyone who might be our guy. Three of them might be the one.” 

He pulled three photos out of the file.  
“Here’s Felix Jones. He’s a repeat offender for drunken fights and a lot of public urination. He got picked up near his usual spot covered in blood.”  
“His spot?” Tony asked, “He’s homeless?”  
“Yes,” Winkler confirmed with a nod, “He passed out in the back of the car. One of our detectives is talking to him, but it seems like he doesn’t remember anything about last night.” 

Tony stared at the wild, scruffy looking man. Could it be him? 

“These two,” Winkler said, gesturing at the other two photos, “were fighting each other. David Ellis is a British journalist who does a lot of travel pieces. He was taking photos for a piece and I was able to map out where he was throughout the night. He stopped for an hour right by where the boys were found.”

Tony didn’t look at the portly face for long. He was too focused on the man in the photo next to him. 

“He looks familiar,” Tony told them.  
“I would hope so. That’s Henry Nordstrom. He works for Oscorp. He was also in Portugal at the same time as you and Parker were.” 

Now Tony remembered him. Oscorp had sent a whole bunch of people to the conference he and Peter had been at. Nordstrom had made a point of asking Peter what their plans were for the rest of the trip after the rest of the posse had already finished with them. Could this all be some sort of business move? 

“He isn’t known for his open-mindedness either,” Winkler informed him, “The guy’s entire Twitter page reads like anti-gay propaganda.”

Tony stared down at the three photographs, theories swirling around his head. Was it the bloodied, blackout drunk homeless man? The fighting travel journalist? Or maybe the homophobic Oscorp exec? There was only one way to find out.

“Let’s investigate.”

**Author's Note:**

> DUN DUN DUN!!!! I’ll be trying to finish up the second half of this story before I go back to school, so keep on the lookout. Thank you so much for reading, and I can’t wait to hear what you think so far!


End file.
